The Voyeur
by Chet Gecko
Summary: Richard comes upon Eloise & Charles in flagrante delicto in the woods, circa 1977. Rated for sex/alcohol; no squidgy body parts just romance novel stuff plus a healthy dose of guilt and angst.


The Voyeur

Richard comes upon Eloise and Charles "in flagrante delicto."

(Set sometime before Daniel's "lets blow up the Jughead" re-set plan)

Rated a hard "T" for sex and alcohol, no squidgy body parts just romance novel stuff.

This was begun before Ab Aeterno. In my other stories Richard's wife is Isabel which I have changed to Isabella as a concession to canon.

Circa 1977

Richard abruptly turned away, exhaling forcefully as if he had received a blow to the chest, and retreated from the clearing back into the cover of trees. Closing his eyes did not prevent the scene he had stumbled upon from repeating over in his mind. He could not shake the explicit image of Eloise's bare legs wrapped around Charles' hips; the man's pants sagging further toward his ankles with every fevered thrust, steadying her body against the tree with one hand as the other fumbled urgently beneath her loose cotton shirt groping toward her breast; their passionate panting and groaning adding contrapuntal melody to the night sounds of the Island in an erotic symphony that echoed through the trees.

Richard knew he had not looked away in time. She had seen him. Even by torchlight, though the flickering of light and shadows, their eyes met for a brief moment. Eloise flashed an unembarrassed, knowing smile over Charles' shoulder and laughed aloud as she licked her lips and continued to use her tongue and teeth to caress Charles' neck and nip at his earlobe. He knew she had seen him blanch and blush before disappearing again into the darkness. Unnerved by the sight, Richard continued through the trees with an unsteady gait before regaining his equilibrium and bearings. He quickly continued on toward the tent encampment that was his home, taking care to avoid straying into the Dharma Initiative's territory.

Entering his tent at last Richard lit the lantern and retrieved a bottle of bourbon from the footlocker at the end of his cot. He quickly tossed back two healthy slugs of the burning amber liquid before pouring a third and sitting down. Agitated, Richard shuffled papers from one side of his desk to the other, absently stacking maps and charts, while his mind continued to replay the scene of Eloise and Charles. He did not begrudge Eloise finding the passion with Charles he had denied himself in service to Jacob and the Island. Interrupting their tryst was an accident to be sure but her smile back at him was intentional. After 23 years she still had a knack for rattling him, for not so subtly reminding him of what had once been offered...and refused.

Richard took another gulp of the drink, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then waited for numbness to overtake him and slow his racing mind.

Eloise had come to him late one night back in 1954. They were all living in military tents left from the occupation of the Island by the US Army. She was little more than a child then, just 17 years old, very smart and a quick study. She had a sharp mind for strategy and weaponry, and a fierce sense of loyalty and commitment to the Island. Ellie possessed an almost draconian sense of the survival of the fittest and precious little patience with others who did not think or act as fast as she.

In retrospect he reasoned she was more drawn to his authority and control over the people than to him in particular. Unlike the others she could readily intuit that while he was not the one who "called the shots," he was indeed very close to the one who did. Richard was fairly certain his unnatural longevity had not at this point become apparent to her – or perhaps if it had, that mystery was part of his allure.

By God, she was beautiful then, thought Richard, stretching, leaning back in his chair, carelessly putting his feet up on his desk, knocking the stack of papers he had just finished straightening off onto to the floor, giving up any pretense of working.

It was a predictably humid tropical summer night, quite late, when she appeared in the entry to his tent. He had been drinking then, much as he was doing now, he recalled, taking another strong swallow of the bourbon for emphasis. Perspiration shone on her smooth tanned skin even in the dark, her short blonde hair hung in ringlets from the dampness and shimmered in the low light like a halo around her face. Her lips, pouty and full, distracted him from the words she was saying. She must have been speaking though he remembered hearing nothing. He was mesmerized by the way her t-shirt clung to the womanly curves of her toned, youthful body. She apparently interpreted his silence as consent and crossed the room to where he stood. She lightly, playfully moved her fingertips over his chest and arms before hooking her fingers through his belt loops to pull his hips in close to her. Whether she then stepped up on tip toe to kiss him or he bowed his head down to taste her mouth he could not clearly recall, but he definitely remembered the hunger she stirred in him. He acutely remembered deepening the kiss and moving his hands down her body to caress her enticing backside before turning her away.

Richard groaned audibly and pushed back from his desk. He rose and paced about his tent to shake off the very physical side effect of his reverie.

What was it that stopped him? Why had he not bedded her? He puzzled as he moved about the room.

They argued, he remembered. She pleaded. He refused. She cajoled. He agonized but was resolute. It would not do. It would not be.

He recalled it was her voice that broke the spell. She had giggled. That was it. He could not take her without feeling like a lecherous old man. Had he truly been the forty year old man he appeared to be it would still have been wrong to take advantage of a teenager, even one so willing. It was a more grave offense when he considered that he had turned forty back in 1846 -- the summer he sailed on the Black Rock, leaving wife and family, never to return.

The passage of time had caught Eloise up to him. Her age could no longer be an objection. It would be conceivable, even reasonable for him to have her now but that opportunity had passed. Richard gave up the glass and took his next drink directly from the bottle as he thought of his beloved Isabella, long dead in the outside world, and the vows they had taken before the priest. He hadn't been with another woman in the more than a hundred and some years he had been on the island -- not that there had not been a lot of women around on this rock in the middle of nowhere for most of that time. His wife was long dead and he was surely released from his marriage vows and yet...even now he wondered why. Why, when there had been a beautiful girl throwing herself at him, at that most inopportune moment, had he experienced an insurmountable attack of morality and conscience?

"Do you still want her?" The voice startled him out of his reverie.

"What the hell?" exclaimed Richard, whirled around, dropping the half drunk fifth of bourbon to the ground. He saw in the shadows a man leaning carelessly against the pole at the entrance to Richard's tent. "What are you doing here, Jacob?"

"I followed you. I had a hunch."

"You followed…a hunch?" was the deadpanned reply.

"What's the fun of knowing things if you don't from time to time follow up on what you know?" the man responded, blue eyes twinkling playfully in the lamplight.

"So you're here to mock me…"

"No, No, that's not it at all."

"Well, I hope my discomfort amuses you," Richard retorted, subtly glancing downward, shifting his stance slightly.

"I thought you might need me...thought you might want a friend."

Richard glared, unsmiling and unmoved. "You really think what I need tonight is a friend?" he said, shaking his head.

The silence between them lingered heavily before Richard continued, "To answer your question: No, I don't want Eloise. I try not to want what I cannot have. I just want to be left alone."

"Excuse me, Greta Garbo..." muttered the blonde man under his breath. "No need to be so melodramatic!"

"I'm not being melodramatic. I'm drunk. Go away."

Richard looked around the room which was suddenly spinning and struggled to stay upright."You may be my only friend left in the world, but you are not who or what I need right now."

"Sit down, Richard, please, before you fall down." entreated a more serious Jacob, as he picked up the empty bottle from where it lay on the ground between them.

"I am not a child, Jacob. Dont condescend to me like I am one."

Richard turned his back upon his well-intentioned guest for emphasis, but the movement carried a little too much momentum given the amount of alcohol in his system. Richard lost his balance, slammed into the table, knocked himself and the lantern to the ground leaving him and Jacob in complete darkness.

Jacob quietly lifted him to his feet and led him to the cot. Richard protested again weakly, slumping on to his back, eyes closing even as he repeated,"I am not a child."

"Neither is she anymore, Richard... neither is she."


End file.
